


Lemon Entry

by GerardWaysThirdNipple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:01:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GerardWaysThirdNipple/pseuds/GerardWaysThirdNipple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About John trying to go on a date, but things make him late. He goes to surprise his date, finding something...odd</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lemon Entry

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this isn't supposed to be smutty or fluffy, it's just kinda funny. I told my friends a joke that then turned into this fic. Look at the end notes for the joke.

**Lemon Entry, My Dear Watson**

John was running late. He was at the clinic, dealing with his _favorite_ patient: William. He was there almost every night, constantly asking for prescriptions for illnesses that didn’t ail him. Usually, John would take his temperature, his heart rate, then sit and listen, pretending to take notes when he was really doodling, then prescribing him water pills. Every night, he’d come back.

How can anyone get off on water pills? John thought, rubbing his face as Billy (as John called him; he was the only one who could) complained about having heart palpitations.

“William.” John interrupted the man, who was obviously desperate for these pills, as he was breathless trying to explain his problems. “I need to get home. Why don’t you come back tomorrow morning, and I’ll see what I can do, yeah?”

William looked pained. “Doc, ya must not understand. I _need_ these pills. Or he’ll kill me.”

“Who will, Billy?”

“I can’t tell ya, Doc.”

“Then I can’t help you. Goodnight, William.” John stood up, waiting for the other man to exit the room before he washed his hands and put everything in its place.

“Where’s the fire, John?” The secretary stopped him as he briskly walked to the doors leading to the car park. She had “subtly” dropped hints she was interested, like wearing tights skirts and suddenly dropping something when he was around and bending right in front of him. But he had no interest.

“Home, Anna. I have a date, and I’m already twenty minutes late.”

“I’m sure they’d understand if you were a few minutes more late.” She stepped closer, blocking his way completely, looking at him with hooded eyes.

“You’re right. Let’s go to a bar, yeah?” John needed her gone. He took it as a good sign when she squealed excitedly and gathered her things.

“You don’t drive, do you?” She asked. John smiled apologetically and shook his head, wishing she would just hurry up.

“That’s fine.”

Anna drove to the nearest bar, called Monty’s, which was quite popular to John’s colleagues. He walked behind Anna, sending a text to his date.

 

**I’m gonna be a while; tied up at work**

**-JW**

He’d have one drink, then “go to the bathroom” and slip out.

“Your drinks are on me.” Anna already had a drink in hand, and it was half gone. John didn’t think she would be sober much longer.

~

An hour after he was supposed to be on his date, he was sneaking out of the bar, finally prying Anna’s hands off of him. John decided he would surprise his date, by dropping by the flat. And by having flowers.

No. Not flowers. Maybe…aha! A scarf. It’s chilly tonight, and John wanted to go out for his date.

John went into the store, trying to figure out which color would match best with what they usually wore.

After another twenty minutes, he had a royal blue scarf, now in a gift bag, and he was hailing a cab.

John was bouncing in his seat, fingers tapping his knee. Tonight was his first real date with the other.

At half past nine, John exited the cab, paying his fare. He took a deep breath, and opened the door to his flat.

He tried his hardest to not make noise as he walked up the stairs, past his landlady’s door, and up to the flat.

John didn’t knock, he just walked in, and was about to apologize for everything and give the present, when he looked, _really_ looked, and saw.

Saw Sherlock. On the couch.

Sherlock was on the couch, on his stomach, completely naked. Wedged between his arse cheeks, was a slice of lemon.

John stood there, silent, taking in everything. He was so confused. Why was Sherlock doing this? He should’ve been ready, for their date. He should’ve known John was going to still take him out.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing?”

Sherlock was still, not saying anything for a straight 10 seconds. Then he answered, in his deepest, most serious voice, “Lemon entry, my dear Watson.”

**Author's Note:**

> John Watson went by 221B Baker St. to visit his friend, Sherlock. He had not informed Sherlock of his arrival, as he thought it would be a nice surprise. When John went upstairs, he found his friend bare naked, lying on his stomach on the couch. In between his nether cheeks, there was a lemon. John asked his friend, "Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?!" Sherlock answered, very deeply, very seriously, "Lemon entry, My dear Watson."


End file.
